Facing Tang San's barrage of hidden weapons, Oscar didn't even flinch. The six Frost Swords orbiting around him shimmered with deadly light and, almost imperceptibly, returned to his side—forming a defensive ring. The sharp edges of the blades sliced through the air, easily deflecting every one of Tang San's hidden weapons.
Ten sharp impacts echoed nearly at the same time. The dozen flying projectiles were all blocked cleanly. Not a single one managed to wound Oscar.
Tang San's heart trembled in disbelief.
"These were Piercing Bone Nails," he thought. "Among all small hidden weapons, they're among the heaviest and hardest to block. Combined with my internal energy and their penetrating force, even Soul Masters stronger than me should suffer some injury. But he… deflected all of them so effortlessly?"
Such terrifying defense—and he hadn't even used a Soul Skill yet! When Dai Mubai said Oscar was "flawless," he hadn't been exaggerating.
But Tang San wasn't the kind to give up easily. With a spin of his body, another dozen flashes of cold light burst from his hands, each streaking toward Oscar's vital points.
"Flawless? There's no such thing as flawless," Tang San murmured coldly. "The more someone believes they're perfect, the greater their hidden weaknesses. I just need one opening."
But first, he had to force that opening.
As he retreated, Tang San's hands danced in the air like butterflies weaving through flowers. Hidden weapons—some thrown, some flicked—shot out one after another. Willow Leaf Blades, Flying Locust Stones, Copper Coin Darts, Piercing Bone Nails—each of them was an extension of his will, flying in unpredictable arcs and trajectories, striking from every direction toward one target: Oscar.
Yet Oscar remained motionless. He didn't even shift his stance.
The six floating swords around him suddenly blazed brighter, and with a sharp hum, they shot outward.
A storm of metallic clashes filled the air—clang! Clang! Clang!—until, moments later, silence returned.
Oscar still stood there, tall and steady. Around him, within a one-meter radius, lay countless shattered fragments of Tang San's hidden weapons—broken, useless, scattered like fallen petals.
Tang San's pupils shrank. He couldn't help but admire Oscar's sheer control and composure.
"I've lived in this world for twelve years," he thought. "But I've never met anyone with such mastery of their Martial Spirit. So strong… so flawless in both offense and defense."
"Is this the kind of genius who reaches Rank 47 at just fourteen years old? Truly terrifying…"
Then, Tang San's eyes hardened.
"But the Tang Sect's greatest strength isn't hand-thrown weapons—it's mechanical hidden weapons!"
In an instant, Tang San's sleeves trembled. His muscles tensed, and a low whirring sound came from inside his cuffs. A dense spray of cold steel needles burst outward, accompanied by a faint misty vapor that spread through the air—a toxic fog laced with the scent of tea.
The range was close—Oscar was directly within the attack zone.
But Oscar merely smiled faintly. Poison immunity. He had long since cultivated a body immune to all toxins.
As the needles shot forth, Oscar raised his hand slightly. The five floating Frost Swords before him rotated rapidly, forming a gleaming sword formation. The spinning blades generated a barrier of sword qi that easily blocked every incoming needle.
Meanwhile, the Frost Moon Sword he held in his hand slashed forward—a cold arc of light rushing straight for Tang San.
Oscar had seen enough. These hidden weapons, while impressive, posed no real threat.
The blade reached Tang San almost instantly.
Tang San tried to block with Blue Silver Grass, summoning vines in a desperate attempt to intercept the sword—but they were far too fragile. The Frost Moon Sword tore through them effortlessly.
At that moment of crisis, Tang San's left hand suddenly shone with black light. A small, jet-black hammer appeared in his grip—dense and heavy, radiating ancient power.
He swung it down instinctively—clang!—and unbelievably, the Frost Moon Sword was knocked aside!
Oscar's brows furrowed, pretending to be surprised.
"A Twin Spirit?"
Those two words froze Tang San's blood.
He'd acted on instinct, revealing his second Martial Spirit—the Clear Sky Hammer!
If Oscar realized what it was, his biggest secret would be exposed. But what choice had he had? Faced with certain death, he couldn't risk holding back.
Still, Oscar didn't stop. His five flying swords regrouped and shot toward Tang San again, slicing through the air like streaks of white lightning.
Tang San's soul power was almost exhausted. His hidden weapons were gone, his Blue Silver Grass was shredded—and despite all his efforts, he hadn't even forced Oscar to take a single step backward.
Even Tang San, proud as he was, had to admit the truth—Oscar's strength was overwhelming. So overwhelming that resistance felt meaningless.
Tang San quickly dismissed his Clear Sky Hammer, pretending it was just an ordinary weapon, and used his Blue Silver Grass to wrap himself in a defensive cocoon. He glanced to the side—the incense stick marking the battle's duration was nearly burned out.
"Just hold on a little longer," he told himself. "Just a few more moments…"
He wanted to enter Shrek Academy more than anything. He wanted to stand beside geniuses like Oscar and test himself against them.
He would not give up.
But Oscar was done playing.
In an instant, his five flying swords tore through the Blue Silver Grass and halted precisely at Tang San's throat, heart, forehead, and knees—each aimed to kill.
Feeling the cold edges against his body, Tang San froze. The incense had only a tiny bit left to burn. He exhaled softly.
"...We lost."
Ning Rongrong frowned unhappily, but she couldn't protest. Oscar's strength was simply too much. Even she could tell that throughout the fight, Oscar had been holding back—letting Tang San attack freely.
Her father's words echoed in her mind:
"In the face of absolute strength, all techniques are illusions."
She murmured, "So strong… unbelievably strong."
Oscar looked at Tang San calmly, then waved his hand. His Martial Spirit and the floating swords vanished into motes of light.
He spoke faintly:
"You three aren't bad. Your coordination is lacking, but your real combat instincts are decent. Although you didn't formally pass my test, you already have the qualifications to join Shrek Academy. Congratulations."
Tang San and Ning Rongrong blinked in surprise, then their faces lit up with joy.
"W-we passed?" Ning Rongrong stammered.
Oscar nodded.
"But don't get too happy yet. Shrek Academy isn't easy. You'll undergo the strictest training before you can call yourselves true Soul Masters."
Relief and excitement filled Tang San's chest. To him, this was exactly the kind of academy worth joining.
Then his heart tightened again—Xiao Wu was still lying unconscious in the center of the arena.
He rushed to her side and lifted her gently.
"Xiao Wu! Xiao Wu, wake up! We passed!"
Oscar's calm voice came from behind:
"She's fine. She just suffered backlash from her own second soul skill—her spiritual power couldn't handle it."
He reached into his Soul Tool and tossed something toward Tang San.
"Here. Give her this—my first soul skill: Super Recovery Sausage. Let her rest a few days, and she'll recover fully."
Tang San caught it, hesitated for a moment, then fed it to Xiao Wu.
The sausage dissolved instantly in her mouth, releasing a warm, soothing energy. Color quickly returned to her pale face, and moments later, she stirred.
"Brother? W-what happened? My head hurts…" she murmured, dazed.
Tang San held her tightly, voice trembling with emotion.
"It's okay… you're fine now. It's all my fault—I didn't protect you…"
Oscar watched silently, expression unreadable. After a moment, he turned toward the high platform and called out:
"Zhu Zhuqing, take Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong to the girls' dormitory. Dai Mubai, bring Tang San."
They both nodded in acknowledgment. Once Xiao Wu recovered enough to walk, the two seniors led the newcomers to their quarters.
Oscar and Dugu Yan remained behind to continue overseeing the examinations. A few other applicants had reached the fourth trial, though none managed to pass the actual combat test.
On the way to the dormitory, Tang San couldn't help asking Dai Mubai,
"Senior Dai, how old are you now?"
Dai Mubai grinned.
"Feeling pressure after facing Oscar? Don't bother comparing yourself to him. He's a monster. No need to compare yourself to monsters."
Tang San nodded seriously.
"But I think comparing myself to such people is exactly what makes growth meaningful."
Seeing Tang San's earnest look, Dai Mubai's teasing smile softened.
"I'm fifteen. My soul power is Rank 39. Compared to Oscar, I'm nothing. He's… beyond comprehension. But because of him, the rest of us—everyone at Shrek—has achieved things we never thought possible."
Tang San was silent, his curiosity toward Oscar growing stronger.
To him, Dai Mubai was already a prodigy. Yet Oscar… was something else entirely.
A fourteen-year-old with Rank 47 soul power. Someone who shattered every theory his teacher, Yu Xiaogang (the Grandmaster), had ever taught him.
Even more frightening—Oscar had defeated all three of them without using a single Soul Skill.
Tang San clenched his fists.
"Just what kind of monster is he?"
As if reading his mind, Dai Mubai chuckled.
"You're wondering how someone like him can exist, right? Well, brace yourself. What I'm about to say might blow your mind."
Tang San's eyes lit up. "I'm listening."
Dai Mubai spoke slowly.
"You saw Oscar's strength today. But do you know what his real Martial Spirit is? It's not the Frost Moon Sword."
Tang San froze. "Not… his sword? What do you mean?"
Dai Mubai continued,
"That sword—Frost Moon—is actually his teacher's Martial Spirit. Oscar can use it only because of a unique Soul Skill. His own Martial Spirit… is a Food-type Spirit—the Supreme Sausage!"
Tang San's jaw nearly dropped.
"A Food-type…?!"
Even the Grandmaster, who prided himself on understanding every theory of Soul Masters, had never imagined such a thing—a Food-type Soul Master wielding another person's Martial Spirit in battle!
Dai Mubai nodded.
"He's a born full-spirit-power Food-type genius. Because of a special soul skill, he can manifest and wield his teacher's Martial Spirit. The details… I can't tell you without his permission. But remember this: though Oscar is technically a Support-type Soul Master, his combat ability surpasses almost anyone at his level—and his support abilities are equally unmatched."
He smirked.
"That sausage you fed your girlfriend earlier? That was his first soul skill—Super Recovery Sausage."
Tang San's face flushed.
"Cough… Senior, Xiao Wu isn't my girlfriend. She's my sister."
Dai Mubai raised a brow, then chuckled knowingly.
"Sister, huh? That's even better than a girlfriend."
Internally, he sighed.
"Girlfriends are way more trouble than sisters, anyway…"
Author's Note:
Vote for recommendations and monthly tickets! These chapters may seem long, but every line is groundwork for the later plot. It's not filler, brothers!
Also, tell me, do you want me to torture Tang San or train him? Personally, I prefer training—too many fanfics just bully him for no reason.
After all, in Douluo II, he's a "dog trainer." This time, maybe I'll let Oscar train him instead. 🐶
Please, brothers, drop a monthly ticket for your boy Jin Wu! 🙏🔥